


in a vision

by fatalize



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 12:50:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15171137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatalize/pseuds/fatalize
Summary: On one of the nights before they enter the Correctional Facility, Nezumi has a foreboding dream.





	in a vision

            Darkness, and then— _click_. The spotlight soaks Nezumi as he stands on the stage, alone. In his hand is the script of a play—the one he’s supposed to be performing?—it looks familiar and foreign to him at the same time. He glances at the cover for the title but can’t find it. He skims the lines, sure he’s never read them before, never seen them until today—and yet finds he knows them by heart.

             _What is—_

            The spotlight vanishes, then flickers on again. He’s stupefied for a moment—should he be reading? He looks to the audience again, sees that it’s actually empty—so maybe this is rehearsal, then. It would explain why he’s not made up, still in his street clothes.

            He opens the book in his hands again, flips open to Act One, Scene One, but suddenly the lines are illegible, blurring and scattering in front of him, shapes he doesn’t know—he squints, trying to discern something, anything, but the more he scans the more it turns into gibberish—so what should he do, improvise? What’s going on—

            “Nezumi, haven’t you realized? Don’t go back to Act One. We’re already on Act Four, Scene Two.”

            Nezumi looks up, surprised. No doubt about it, that was Shion’s voice—and there he is, standing on the other side of the stage, in the dark. But Shion’s never been to the theater before, so why is he—

            “Open up,” Shion prompts again, “to Act Four. Scene Two. First line.”

            In his bewilderment Nezumi forgets his voice and mechanically does what Shion says. Maybe he should be protesting, questioning, but he feels compelled to do it, as if it might answer his questions.

            He opens the script again, finding Act Four, Scene Two. But there’s only one line on the page, and it’s not even dialogue. It’s one small stage direction—

_(NEZUMI takes ten steps forward, slowly)._

            Nezumi barely takes a step forward before the spotlight thunders down on Shion.

            And Shion, on the other side of the stage, is facing toward Nezumi—with a gun in his hand.

            And it’s a  _real_  gun, too, not some prop. Nezumi would know.

            He manages to find his voice this time.

            “Shion, what are you—”

            “Nezumi,” Shion says softly but firmly. “Follow the script. You’re a good actor, aren’t you?”

            There’s something off about this Shion. He feels unnatural, his character in the pen of a different writer. Maybe it’s because—as he’s now realizing—this is Nezumi’s dream; there’s no way, he knows, he could accurately produce a natural Shion himself.

            Yet even his increasing awareness that this is a dream doesn’t quell the anxiety that’s beginning to crawl along his throat. He waits a few long moments before he takes a step forward, and then another one, spotlight following him, and with each careful step he’s taking Shion’s doing something with the gun, inspecting it, checking if it’s loaded—since when did Shion know how to do all that?—and when Nezumi’s three steps away, Shion quietly says, “Nezumi, I’m sorry.”

            Nezumi halts, holds his breath. He’s waiting for Shion to go on but soon realizes that, like some obnoxious machine, Shion won’t continue unless Nezumi keeps following the script.

             _Three._

            “It’s because of me. It’s all because of me.” Shion shakes his head. “We’re almost at the end of the play. Did you know? This one’s known for being a tragedy. And I’ve even had the nerve to make myself the main character. But I don’t regret it, Nezumi. That’s why I’m sorry.”

            Silence. All Nezumi can hear is his own heart beating a little too quickly.

            A few breaths. In, out, in. These are just character lines. Keep moving forward calmly.

             _Two._

            “And I know you don’t regret it, either. I’m glad, actually. That we both feel this way. That we wouldn’t have made any other decisions.” Shion pauses, and Nezumi’s about to take another step forward when Shion continues. “But it’s just sad, you know? That the play’s a tragedy. Once we start Act Five, that’s the end. Do you know what that means?”

            In, out. In, out. Ah, now it makes sense. But Nezumi’s always known. Maybe it’s a tragedy, but like this Shion says, he has no regrets. He never foresaw a happy ending like Shion did, never wished for silver linings on summer clouds.

            The only thing that’s worrying him is the strangeness in this Shion’s voice. Despite his acceptance worry is snaking itself through his skin, and he knows he has to see this through to the end.

             _One._

            He’s less than an arm’s length away from Shion, now.

            Shion raises the arm that’s been gripping the gun. Presses the barrel into Nezumi’s chest, right over his heart. In, out. Nezumi closes his eyes.

            The gun clicks.

            “Nezumi.”

            An inhale.

            “I love you.”

_BANG._

            Shion pulls the trigger.

            Nezumi opens his eyes.

            Before him is Shion slumped on the stage floor, bleeding out.

            The world turns scarlet.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this fic comes from Edgar Allen Poe's poem A Dream Within a Dream. It's a poem I personally associate with No.6 (the first stanza with Nezumi, the second with Shion). But it's not really related to this fic. I just think it's neat.
> 
> Originally... I was planning to write more, but no matter how I tried, having Nezumi introspectively think about his dream afterward just ended up being boring. I just wanted to write the dream. The interpretation and examination and all that jazz I leave up to you, dear reader. Thank you for reading!


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